Rooftops and Invitations
by space77
Summary: You can’t stop thinking about him, you can’t stop looking at him. So do something about it. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter One

**Title:** _Rooftops and Invitations_

**Rating:** T for now, M for later chapters

**Summary: **_You can't stop thinking about him, you can't stop looking at him. So do something about it._

**A/N: **Little something I came up with, definitely inspired by Dashboard Confessional's _Rooftops and Invitations_ (link in my profile), though I hesitate to label this a song-fic. Looks to be at least three chapters, but I can't promise an update soon as I've been rather uninspired lately. Devilishly hoping that some good feedback and start of Season Four will turn that around for me! ;)

Thank you so much to **Kate & Ali** (sorry girls, I couldn't resist!) for the beta prowess – never could do it without ya! And to **bertie**'s kitty… the Force, I am no match for it! :D

**Disclaimer:** Concept of Bones + Characters of Bones + Anything you recognize **ARE NOT MINE**.

* * *

**Chapter One**

He shuffled the stack of file folders and the bags of food he was carrying into one arm and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow before reaching out to knock upon the wood-paneled door. A heavy sigh escaped him as he redistributed the items and waited. Her approach was nearly silent; he could feel her presence on the other side of the door before he could hear her. _Must be barefoot. Only logical… damn heat._

The door swung open to reveal his partner wearing less then he'd ever seen, and he could only hope he recovered well from that fact. His eyes scanned her head to toe, taking in the damp tendrils of hair falling from her loose ponytail, the thin white tank top clinging to her breasts, the fluid maroon skirt billowing around her ankles and yes, bare feet; but it was her eyes and the weariness that he found there that held his gaze. He knew his must reflect the same.

"Smells good," she softly smiled as she took the bags of food from him and moved towards the kitchen counter. It had been a long day, a long few weeks. Heated foot-chases in nearly 100 degree weather, along with tension-packed standoffs, didn't leave much time or thought for nourishment. So seeing a fresh-faced Seeley Booth at seven twenty in the evening, wearing worn-in jeans and a form-fitting tee, she attributed the watering in her mouth solely to the bags of aromatic goodness she now held in each hand. When he smiled at her and 'discreetly' took in the length and curves of her body, the moistness between her thighs couldn't be explained away nearly as easily.

He shifted the files again and stepped over the threshold, hoping to feel a significant temperature drop as he moved into the room. It was slight, at best. The air conditioning seemed to chug in Brennan's apartment, barely keeping up with the sweltering temperatures that had every weather man in the city dragging out their record books.

He walked to the sitting area and placed his batch of files next to her laptop, noting through the orderly stacks that she had started without him. _What else is new?!_

"Beer?" he heard her call from the kitchen.

"Sure," he answered, moving towards her across the room.

He helped her prepare the food and drinks in silence, the air heavily-laden with more than the heat and humidity. For possibly one of the first times it wasn't a tension caused by arguments or attraction between them, but an almost palpable stress surrounding them both like a cloud of persistent gnats.

They'd just wrapped one of the most intense cases of their partnership. Seven bodies recovered in three weeks; some of the worst, most gruesome remains the team had ever seen, a serial killer whose taunts and games rivaled and surpassed Howard Epps' wildest dreams. The toll this case had taken on everyone remained plainly etched on their faces. Unlike Epps, this scumbag had not directly threatened or attacked the team; no, his escalating sick pleasure and fear was taken out on his victims, each body tortured worse than the last. Each excruciating detail they uncovered made it that much harder to stay compartmentalized, focused. By the end, emotions usually kept in check were threadbare and raw.

They moved to the coffee table to eat and begin to sort through the hours of torturous federal triplicate. It was not either partner's desire to rehash the last few weeks. Therefore, even the usual comfort found in each other's presence seemed short-lived. Smiles were few, sighs were many. Words were exchanged only as necessary. And stolen glances revealed the raw nerves and knife-edged feelings, as evident as the snapshots scattered around the work area – seven bodies, contorted from fear and pain, their final screams ingrained and transferred to the psyches of those who had sought their justice.

--

Three hours later found the coffee table shoved to the side, littered with empty take-out containers, crumpled napkins and several beer bottles. Seemingly random piles of paper dotted the blood-red carpet; the organized chaos of the scene only evident to the room's dual occupants.

Soft sounds of classic rock faded into the background of the scratching of pen on paper, the random click of a mouse, the steady tapping of laptop keys. The inconspicuous whir of the overhead fan caused a ruffle of pages here and there, the room still thick with summer heat despite the slight breeze and persistent hum of the air conditioning.

"How can it still be this damn hot?" Booth shifted in his spot on the floor and rubbed one of his bare feet, trying to restore feeling to the tingling extremity. With an agitated sigh and a flourish of his pen on paper, he passed the FD-302 to his partner, seated above him at the end of the couch.

Brennan took the page and rolled her head around her shoulders, flexing her neck muscles in a futile attempt to ease the ache settling in. "I don't know. I've got the air as cool as it will go." She shifted her light-weight cotton skirt a little higher in her lap, not succeeding in making herself cooler in the least, but unknowingly giving her partner a nice view of a creamy expanse of thigh.

Unconsciously licking his lips, but ultimately averting his eyes respectfully and rising to his feet, Booth smoothed his shirt over his flat stomach, "Getting another beer. More wine?"

She lifted her empty glass from the side table. "Yes, please."

He took it and moved off to the kitchen. Her eyes never left his retreating form; watching his bare feet kiss her hardwood, his jeans slung low on his hips, and the tail-hem of his shirt bunched at the small of his back. His sun-kissed neck glowed even more bronze than usual, a souvenir from a rare moment of downtime used to re-connect with his son at the park. She remembered his return the next day, renewed and enthusiastic to "catch this bastard."

She felt a trickle of sweat gather and slide between her breasts. _Damn, it's hot in here._ She rose to her feet and met him as he rounded the kitchen counter. Taking the filled glass from his hand, she said, "I think we need a break," before taking a sip of the cold liquid and closing her eyes; not savoring the sweet flavor or woody aroma, but relishing the cool stream parting her lips, the radiating chill across her tongue, coating her throat on its way to settle coolly in her belly. She softly moaned her appreciation of the drink as she pulled the glass away.

"That good, huh?" Booth asked, a look in his eyes she couldn't quite define, yet still managed to send a shiver down her spine.

She turned toward the front door, not bothering with shoes, keys, anything but her refreshing beverage and her intended goal.

"Where are you going?"

"You'll see," without looking back to see if he would follow. Her invitation unspoken.

Feeling somewhat like a rubbernecker at the scene of a multi-car pile-up, helpless to resist, he passed the wet condensation of his beer bottle across his forehead as he followed her trail and shut the door behind them.

--

As she pushed open the heavy door at the top of the stairs, the white of her tank top contrasted with the inky sky, the dim light from inside the stairwell creating a perfect silhouette. He stopped mid-step and leaned against the railing, resting his beer bottle on his thigh – for just this moment, indulging. And then she was gone, disappearing into the blackness. Shaking his head to clear it and jar himself into motion, he quickly took the last few steps and caught the door just before it closed completely.

Stepping onto the rooftop, he prepared himself to feel a rough, pebbly grit on the soles of his bare feet… expected it to burn as the dark tar returned the day's heat. Instead, the surface was smooth, soothingly cool as light-colored sandstone tiles led in a path to a terrace garden. Maybe "garden" was a stretch, but the moonlight revealed a sitting area dotted with ornamental grasses in planters, low-rising brick walls – what he later realized were the fire walls demarcating the individual units - and several wooden Adirondack chairs.

However it wasn't the roof itself that demanded attention, but a panorama of the city that could literally take one's breath away. The view to the Northwest encompassed the dome of the Capitol building, the phallic spire of the Washington Monument, and unseen somewhere in between, their Jeffersonian Institute. Elsewhere, the ethereal glow of "big city" and a sea of twinkling lights stretched for miles in all directions.

"This is beautiful. I never even knew this was here."

"All the tenants of the building share this area. But I can honestly say I've never seen anyone up here."

"I can't understand why, it's amazing." After he spoke, he realized he _could_ understand why she may have only ever been here alone – during the hours 'normal' people used this place, she was usually with him or in her lab, immersed in death.

They stood side-by-side for a while admiring the nearly birds-eye view.

In his line of work, it was too easy to look over this city - _his_ city - and feel responsible, like a protector – a mini-God. Only he wasn't omniscient or omnipresent. All he could do was watch them scurry from up here, but his job was down there, in the thick of it and many times he felt like he was only cleaning up the messes left behind. Obviously, he wasn't omnipotent either.

Her words broke the silence and it was eerie to him how her voice echoed the one in his head. "It took us longer than it should have… that last victim… we were too slow."

As she spoke, she watched his profile; he never took his eyes from the distant view, but she saw his jaw clench and heard his sharp intake of breath. Upon his exhale, he faced her and his eyes flickered with emotion – at the surface, anger, on the verge of being unchecked; and just beneath, immense sadness and pain.

The hand not holding his beer came up to rub across his forehead and then clench into a fist at his side. "Clark's good, but he's no Zack." It was the first thing that popped in his head, but it wasn't what he meant to say. It wasn't what he meant.

She bristled and wrapped her free arm tightly around herself, half-full wine glass dangling from her fingertips. _Obviously_. But she thought she knew what he was getting at. They didn't often mention the more-than-apparent change in their team dynamic, but cases like this drove it home. The well-oiled machine they once were, all six of them, had hiccupped and coughed out one of its own. And replacing a hexagonal peg with a square one didn't often work.

She would give Clark credit though, he had worked his ass off on this case and eventually led them down the right path. That had to count for something. She was justified in hiring him.

Brennan silently turned to move towards a chair.

"That… that's not what I meant, Bones. It wasn't his…" Booth stopped to take a breath and collect his thoughts. Every time he thought of the way this case had unraveled, he wanted to punch something.

He turned towards her. "Bones, this guy was a sick, twisted fuck. I wish I could justify it to myself in any other way, but I can't. We did what we could with what we had. It took all of us. The same way it always has." _It doesn't mean I still don't want to gut the guy._ "And now the bastard is on his way to rot."

Brennan sat in one of the wooden chairs, hiking her skirt to her knees and extending her long legs. Taking a sip of her rapidly-warming wine, she said, "I know Booth."

He stared at her a few moments as the silence stretched between them. It wasn't personal between them, but they both felt so affected by this case, that it seemed that way. He watched her until she raised her eyes to meet his.

They were still a good team. This guy would never kill again.

Her soft smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's still hot."

There was a slight breeze in the night air, maybe a hint of summer rain in the carried aroma, floating above the typical city smell of exhaust and the heavy humidity.

Booth moved to the brick wall adjacent to her and sat, just as a flash of heat lightning lit up a corner of the ebony sky. "Maybe we'll get a bit of rain… some relief," he said, setting his bottle on the ground near his feet. Placing a hand on either side of him, he leaned back and looked up into the inky blackness, watching gray clouds temporarily obscure the moon and few brightest stars that the city lights couldn't dim.

She watched him extend and cross his long legs, openly admiring his feet in the shadows that prevailed over them. His large halluxes, the masculine arches - a flashback to gray-on-black film suddenly illuminated her mind, its revelations as clear to her as if she had been there herself or watched on some sadistic video reel. She had a sudden urge to hold them (_him_) in her hands, massaging the ache in his soles (_soul_). She found she wanted to see those feet buried in warm sand in relaxation, running through lapping waves at an ocean's edge, tangled in crisp white cotton sheets, morning's first light casting upon the golden brown dusting of hair.

She looked in her glass, as if the wine could be to blame for her meandering and bizarre thought processes. Inebriated after just two glasses? Maybe it was something else that had gotten inside her, impairing her mind and intoxicating her senses.

_You can't stop thinking about him, you can't stop looking at him. So do something about it._

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Feedback will be treated as any good lovey should: snuggled, drooled on and dragged around until it's faded and worn and in need of a good washing... the dirtier the better, I always say! ;)**


	2. Chapter Two

**Title:** Rooftops and Invitations

**Rating:** M

**Beta(s)**: **T****emperTemper** and **F****orAReason** - once again, major glomps to you both… this whole process would be impossible without you guys.

**A/N: **Definitely inspired by Dashboard Confessional's song of the same title, though I hesitate to label this a song-fic. Even though we're not quite there yet (OO, did I just give it away?!), I'm moving this on into the land of M, just to be safe... and we all know the reasons why it's good to be safe. /PSA ;) So if you are under the age of consent, or just aren't into that sort of thing, please re-consider continuing this story. Thx!

**Disclaimer:** Concept of Bones + Characters of Bones + Anything you recognize ARE NOT MINE.

* * *

Even at near eleven o'clock in the evening, the city is far from silent. The squeal of tires at the nearest intersection, a slammed door in the building below, the drone of an overhead jet aiming for a landing before the imminent rain. Scattered voices calling out in laughter or anger or pleasure… it ebbed and flowed, much like the current of the nearby Potomac.

But she heard none of this. She was caught up somewhere between her past and future, her feelings becoming clearer by the second.

_  
Temperance Brennan was never one to say something just because it was what someone else needed to hear. But i__t was their fifth family notification, just after two weeks of chasing their tails and uncovering more and more sadistic details of how this freak had shifted from mostly post-mortem cutting and mutilation to now nearly all ante-mortem torture. She could no longer honestly answer the common question, "Did my child/spouse/friend suffer?" without causing more pain than she cared to inflict. This madman had doled out enough pain already; she didn't want to add more to it… unfortunately, in her line of work, it was rare that she could give comfort, only answers._

_So she lied._

_And the first time she did, Booth gave her a somewhat shocked look, but it dissolved into understanding and ended with a shared tight smile and a gleam of pride._

_And that was enough to boost her confidence in listening to what her heart was trying to say._

_  
_Before she could stop herself or think too much about potential ramifications, she moved her foot towards that of her partner and ran her toe up along its smooth bottom. She watched as his toes curled and could swear she saw him shiver.

"Bones?" she heard him ask, but her focus was still intently on his feet.

"Ticklish, Booth?"

He flexed his foot and extended his leg the few inches to caress along her instep. "A little. You?"

Her eyes flicked to his and she could just make out his cocky smile from the dimness of the night. _Was she really playing footsy with her partner on her rooftop?_

"Not really," she replied coyly.

"Hmm… too bad." He pulled his foot away and sat forward, reaching down to grab his beer and take a large swig, before returning the now-empty bottle to the ground. Although he had physically put a bit of space back between them, his eyes never left hers and the feeling of connection never fully dissipated.

Angela would call this an "eye-sex" moment. Would they let it pass as every other had before?

Brennan didn't have to search too deeply to find that she didn't want to wait and find out.

"At least, not on my feet," she responded as a sly grin graced her lips.

--

Booth swallowed visibly, and his smile faltered a bit before he could catch himself. _What were they doing?_

Brennan leaned forward in her chair and placed her near-empty wine glass on the uneven limestone tile below. This action provided her partner with an eye-full of her more than ample breasts pressed against the ribbed cotton of her scoop-neck tank. If it were earlier in the evening, a few less beers under his belt, he would probably have looked away and, truth be told, he did flick his eyes up toward hers for a moment – to see if he was busted. But the temptation to look proved too much… and once he'd succumbed, it was like he was in full missile-lock.

And she wasn't wearing a bra.

"I'm up here, Booth."

His gaze flicked to hers again, then back down, then locked onto her indescribable eyes once more… this time staying, and piercing; diving into the depths, swimming amongst her thoughts like only he could. And what he saw there…

_Determination._ As she reached across the short distance and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling his head, his lips, hard to hers.

_Heat._ In sharp contrast to the coolness of her fingertips, still moist with condensation where she had just been holding her glass, now searing into the tender sun-kissed flesh of his neck.

_Need._ Her lips pressed firmly against his, barely moving at first, then slightly parting and pulling away before latching on… and God, he could feel her hot breath against his lips, in his mouth, the tip of her tongue tasting him like he was the newest delicacy at the most elegant restaurant in town. And the flashes behind his closed eyelids could have been strikes of lightning from the impending storm or… something else. But it was enough to get him moving, involved, participating.

He parted his lips against hers and slipped his tongue into her mouth, gliding across her bottom lip and nearly dying right then from the taste of _her_ mixed with the bittersweet wine still clinging there. He allowed his eyes to drift open, just enough to see her. _It is real, it is her_.

And she's your partner. Your _partner_. What the fuck are you doing? _Line crossed equals lives lost_. But… oh, _God in Heaven_. _This_ is Heaven.

Telling the angel on his shoulder to take a flying leap, he acknowledged her fingernails dragging along his scalp with a low moan and continued to devour her mouth willingly. Bracing himself with one hand upon the wooden slats of her chair, the other moved of its own volition along the outside of her thigh, tentatively exploring and coming to rest lightly at the curve of her waist.

_Straight to Hell. Straight. To. Hell. _

Her hand moved to rest on his chest, but not for long. Fingertips trailed lightly down, grazing past his now-sensitized nipple, one finger stopping to circle it before all five continued on a path toward his...

_Fuck._

"We can't… oh, _God_, we can't." Booth breathed heavily and pulled away abruptly, but not completely, his hand still gripping her waist. At that moment, bowing his head and closing his eyes tightly, he would have sworn to anyone within swearing distance that it was the hardest thing he had ever done - to pull away from the sweetness that was her mouth. And unconsciously, his thumb continued to lightly stroke the ribbed cotton, just above the elastic waistband of her skirt.

"Booth…"

_Dammit, Booth, you're a masochist._ "I'm sorry, Bones…" _You did just have your tongue down her throat; you could at least call her by her given name._ "Temperance, I…"

She reached forward and lightly touched his chin with the knuckle of her right forefinger, raising his eyes to hers. The slight upturn of her swollen red lips, along with her swirling eyes, captivated him and made him see one more thing. _Trust_.

He could see that moment in their history, the one her action had just mimicked, as plain as if it had happened yesterday. Family. _We are all of us, your squints._

However, it was clear to him that, at this moment, there was only one he truly cared about.

"Bones…" released from his lips, entangled with a sigh of frustration. _It's okay, __**I**__ gave her that name_.

As he pulled his hands away from her and sat back, he clenched his fists in his lap. Never more had a grown man wanted to cry – or maybe punch something… yeah, a lot more manly to pound into something than to... _Oh, God… straight to Hell._

"Booth, you once told me there was a difference between head and heart, and that sometimes I needed to disengage one and listen to the other. I… I thought I was doing that." She leaned back in her seat once more and crossed her legs, yet her eyes stayed locked on him.

And he realized that while there was confusion residing there, the one emotion he didn't detect was fear.

It also wasn't lost on him that when she said the word "head", she pointed to herself, and at the word "heart", motioned to him. He rested his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face with both hands, a vain attempt to 'wake up' to this situation. He templed his fingers in front of his still-tingling lips and met her eyes again.

She was right.

And if he truly was thinking with his heart, he never would have stopped kissing her. They could be well on their way back down to her apartment, her bed… _Oh, God_.

But someone had to be _rational_, right? Someone had to keep a cool head… what would happen in the light of day? What if they woke up together, yes, fully satisfied, but also full of regret? What if…?

"Life is too short. Too short to have so many regrets," he whispered. He wasn't even sure he had spoken out loud, through the shelter of his fingers.

"You don't think I know that?" She was no longer looking at him, worrying instead with her hands in her lap.

His head dropped as well, and his focus came to rest on her feet: smooth and slender, toes painted a vibrant red that he would never have predicted.

Is there a scale of magnitude – a Fujita Scale for regrets? Is it greater to regret making a decision that could alter everything? It's hard not to have a fatalistic view of that choice – a feeling of near-certainty that the outcome of that decision would be to see their friendship and partnership in shards beneath their bare and bloodied feet, an unrecognizable twisted mass of rubble likely to be found in a Midwestern trailer park after an F5.

Would it be worth it? To forever feel the guilty weight of every victim failed due to a decision made in a moment of _self_?

Or is the far-weightier regret never making that move at all? Never giving themselves the chance to see if they sputter and fall or burn bright and soar…

Taking a deep breath, but still not able to look at her for risk of losing his grip on his thoughts, Booth broke the silence. "Bones, I don't know the right decision here. But I know that right now, what my heart is saying and what my head is saying are two different things… and, more than anything, I hope that one day they will both be saying the same." _To you._ He stopped speaking and looked at her, waiting until her eyes lifted to his. "I'm not sure when that will be…" _But I hope it's soon._

Brennan nodded. "Just so you know… I'm already there, Booth."

She rose from her chair and moved once again towards the roof's edge, wrapping her arms around herself and taking in the view – the city once so bright, but now seemingly pale in comparison to the feelings she had finally acknowledged for this man.

His eyes widened as he realized what she had just told him. His chest constricted, his heart raced and the space taken up by his lungs ached for release as he could no longer find his breath. If anyone had asked him days ago, weeks ago… hell, _years_ ago, who was the more emotionally advanced in this partnership, he could easily have answered that it was him. The irony that he was the one mired in what amounted to _fear_ at this proposed step in their relationship was not lost on him.

But there's just too much to lose.

_Isn't there?_

--

Former wisps of clouds had gathered and congealed into a dark gray storm-bearing front that seemed to be making its way steadily toward the city, its singular focus to obscure and darken the horizon and wash clean the soot and grime that had been building for weeks.

A sudden, loud crack and rumble of thunder caused her to jump… then laugh at being caught off-guard. Her partner's hand, suddenly resting on her elbow yielded the same result… including the tingling electric pulse of the lightning strike that immediately followed.

"We should probably head back inside, Bones. Storm's coming."

She tried to catch his eyes as they turned toward the rooftop door, but he kept his gaze averted and instead looked to the sky, the chairs, the doorway… anywhere but her.

She approached the heavy, metal door first, reaching for the handle and suddenly angled her body towards his, effectively blocking his path.

"Any chance you'll change your mind?"

"Bones." _Don't look. Don't look. Don't look at her._

But he looked up just in time to see her enigmatic expression and the wink of an eye as she grasped the metal door handle and pulled.

And just then, nothing happened.

* * *

_TBC._

Feedback in the form of reviews is very much appreciated.

* * *


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: **Many thanks to my fantabulous betas – **TemperTemper** and **ForAReason**: this whole process would be impossible without you guys. xxx Also many thanks to all the awesome reviewers – sorry I haven't been keeping up with my replies lately, will try to do better. :)

**Disclaimer:** Concept of Bones + Characters of Bones + Anything you recognize ARE NOT MINE.

* * *

He watched her pull at the smooth metal handle several times, knowing all along it was futile. They were locked out.

And just to put an exclamation point on the situation, bright flashes of lightning and loud rumbles of thunder were becoming more and more frequent and intense.

"Dammit, Booth! You couldn't read the sign?"

"What sign? I didn't see…"

She cut him off. "The sign on the door saying not to let it close completely because the lock engages automatically?" She tugged again. "Dammit!"

"Bones, I didn't see a sign." Trying to stay calm, Booth wondered if he'd ever seen his cool, rational partner freak out quite like this.

_Flash. One-one-thousand. Two-one-thousand. Three- … Rumble._

"Well, what were you doing, Booth? It takes all of your focus to walk up a flight of stairs?"

So much for calm – he could feel himself losing that tenuous hold.

_When my focus was on your gorgeous ass, yeah._

Her eyes widened.

_Did I say that out loud?_

_Fuck._

"What did you-" And she stopped, but he could see the smirk rising to her lips. He was so busted. She turned as if to walk away and he assumed she was taking a few steps to clear her head.

Recovering from the shock of what he'd blurted, and _yeah, that couldn't have gone down much worse_, Booth stepped forward to grab the door handle himself. Maybe brute force _would_ do the trick. They needed off this roof - **NOW**.

He jerked with all his might and still nothing.

Suddenly, without warning, she was behind him… pressed against his back, her hands at the waist of his jeans. "Bones?"

"Booth, you have something I need…" He could feel her breath, hot on his neck.

"I- Bones, I thought we discussed this-"

Her hands moved nimbly towards the front of his jeans, her thumbs lifting the hem of his shirt and sliding along the belt-loops. And as her flesh fleetingly grazed his, he couldn't stop the twitch between his legs any more than he could stop the impending foul weather.

Before he could even think, her fingers had snaked into both of his pockets, finding and removing his keys from the right one… and then she was gone, striding away from him across the rooftop; leaving him in the assumed position – legs slightly spread and palms flat against the door – of a man in trouble.

_Flash. One-one-thousand. Two-one-thou… __Rumble__._

--

They say knowledge is power.

And Temperance Brennan was brimming with knowledge. She could contribute intelligent conversation about almost anything anyone could ever fathom to discuss… at least about things _worth_ discussing. Facts, statistics, worthwhile discoveries, theories… she could hold her own with the best of them. Hell, she was the best of them.

But tonight, Temperance had just come upon a whole new facet of knowledge.

The knowledge that her partner wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

Her confident stride across the rooftop never faltered. She twirled his keys around her fingers and only slowed once she reached the first brick wall demarcating the units. Pulling up her skirt, she nimbly stepped on top and over the wall.

She could hear her partner approaching behind her. "Bones, what are you doing? Where are you going?" A grunt as he hoisted himself over the low wall. "And with my keys?!"

Brennan came to a halt at the roof's edge and looked over. She could see her balcony about fifteen feet below. Metal rungs were attached to the side of the building and would lead them to their salvation. The storm clouds were moving in fast.

She looked down at the keys in her hand, and began flipping through the set, looking for the one to her apartment in the dim light. She flipped past a keychain reading World's Greatest Dad and couldn't help but chuckle when she encountered a flat disc with an etched skull and crossbones.

"This is not anatomically correct, Booth."

"Um, no… it's not," he agreed, reaching out to try and snatch his keys back from her. She pulled her hand away and his fingers gripped her wrist instead, pulling her a step away from the edge and back towards him. The look in his eyes as her shoulder brushed along his chest nearly scalded her.

Just then, the skies opened up and warm summer rain began to fall. They both looked up into the blackness, as if acknowledging it would make the situation better. They only succeeded in getting their faces wet. Booth released his grip on her wrist and stepped forward.

This storm was coming whether they were ready for it or not.

_Flash. One-one-thousand. Two- … __Rumble__._

--

Looking to the fire escape, Booth conceded, "Fine, but I'm going first…" He didn't have to finish his sentence or even fully see her expression in the dim light to know that her "alpha-male scowl" was firmly in place.

He shifted past her to the wall and threw his leg over, resting his bare foot on the first rung. "These are going to get slippery fast, Bones. We need to hurry, but we also need to…" looking straight in her eyes, "…Be. Careful."

"Climb, Booth," she responded. The _I can take care of myself_ was hidden by an especially loud crack of thunder, but he knew all the same.

Gripping the ledge, he began to alternate feet down the fire escape until his head was just about level with the roof's edge. Glancing up to tell her to get ready, he watched with wide-eyed interest as she gathered her dark skirt up to the side and tied a knot with the excess material. This turned a rather demure garment into… well, a much shorter, much more revealing article of clothing.

And yes, he'd been seeing her legs all night. At moments, she'd exposed more than what he knew she'd intended. But that was before she'd kissed him; before he'd kissed her back. Before he'd felt how soft the fabric of that skirt was, bunched under his fingertips, a thin layer between him and the supple skin of her thigh…

"Booth, are you going?"

"Yeah… going," _to Hell_, his seemingly ever-present inner voice added as he snapped his mind out of that dangerous memory and back onto the task at hand. They, along with the metal bars, were being pelted quite regularly with the now-steady rain.

When he was about halfway down, Brennan gripped the roof-ledge tightly and swung her leg over to rest her bare foot on the metal rung. She allowed the ring of his keys to slip over her thumb to hold them in place as best as she could. The last thing they needed was for her to drop them to the sidewalk fifty-plus feet below.

Booth had almost made it to the balcony railing when he chanced a look up to see how his partner was faring. _Holy Mother of…_ He really did have a first-rate view up her skirt. And it really was a miracle he didn't fall off the side of the damn building. Only the cumulating factors of the dimness of the night, which prohibited him from seeing quite as much, and the rain that was incessantly striking his face worked together to save him; by forcing him to look away and concentrate on the remaining distance to safety.

Finally reaching the railing, he hooked his leg over and hopped onto the balcony.

Looking back up to his partner, he cleared the large lump out of his throat and called, "Careful Bones, you're almost here."

When she was well-within reaching distance, he leaned over the railing and gripped her waist to steady her as she climbed over, feeling the dampness of her thin shirt under his fingers. And beneath that…

_Flash. One-one-thou… __Rumble__._

Once she was safely beside him on the balcony, Brennan moved to unlock the glass-paned door. As she drove the key home, Booth turned to look around the elevated space and suddenly felt his chest constrict.

_**Oh, what, you heading for the balcony, Howie? Hope you can fly, cause that's about a fifty foot drop…**_

He let his fingers drag along the iron railing as he relived that defining moment in his life.

_**Look who the killer is now, Agent Booth.**_

_**A little help here, Bones? I got nothing but dead weight here. Help… me.**_

"Booth?" she questioned now, laying a hand upon his shoulder, the material of his dampened tee made a few shades darker by the heavy raindrops. He didn't respond, his eyes looking over the rail to the concrete below.

_**Are you saying you don't want me dead?**_

_**Yeah, I'm not you.**_

_**Oh, really? You're not thinking of the world with me still in it? Going after Dr. Brennan, your son-**_

_**I'm not you.**_

"Fifty," he whispered, gripping the rail with both hands, clenching until his knuckles were white and prominent. He wanted to rip the damn thing off the side of her building. "He was a real piece of shit."

"And yet, you would have saved him in a heartbeat. Because you're not."

He pulled back on the rail a bit, flexing his back and neck and letting his head hang down. Then with a deep breath, he stood straight and released the rain-cooled iron, brushing his hands together as if ridding himself of something dirty.

Turning to face her, it astounded him how beautiful she really was. Her hair was damp again, this time from the rain, and tendrils fell from the ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was watching him and her eyes sparkled – like they did when she'd made some new discovery and was excited to share it with him. _Had she? Was she? Would she?_

Her cheeks were still lightly flushed from their climb down the fire escape – and maybe something more. Her lips were full and dusky pink in the dim light - slightly parted, soft breaths escaping.

_Flash. __Rumble.  
_

They were standing on a metal balcony, in a thunder storm, likely to be fried by lightning at any moment, but he was like a magpie with a shiny bauble; he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. When he looked at her, he saw life – vibrant, abundant, beautiful. One would think, spending nearly every waking moment with this woman, both of them immersed in death, destruction, deceit… that one would become synonymous with the other. That when he thought of his partner, his mind would flash with skeletons, murderers and decay.

But that couldn't be farther from the truth. Because she was also his friend, his partner, and his… what? _Confidante? Temptation? Downfall? Salvation?_

_Everything?_

Suddenly filled with a mental exhaustion he was too tired to fight, he reached out a slightly trembling finger to graze along her cheek. Tracing down the line of her neck, pushing along a wayward strand of dampened hair, he spoke softly, "When is the toll on us too much, Bones?"

At his touch, her eyes had betrayed her with a slow blink and her breath had caught. But at his words, her gaze was locked to his, the spark of curiosity and concern shining like a lighthouse beacon searching for a wayward sailor. She didn't speak; for once, simply listened, her eyes silently urging him to go on.

"I mean, how many decapitated heads, exploding bodies, hacked and dismembered corpses will it take before we break?" His eyes shifted focus to her shoulder, following the trail of his trembling fingertips as he explored her wet skin. "We chose this job. And every day we have to choose it again; renew that commitment."

His gaze locked with hers, momentarily letting the sound of raindrops pinging on metal reign supreme. But his fingers never stilled until they had moved to slide down her arm and encircle her slender wrist, slowly curling into her palm. "What happens on the day that we don't… or can't?"

--

Brennan was fascinated by the powerful emotions clearly affecting her partner right now. What she thought was pain and confusion were etched into the lines of his face, the furrow of his brow. The flashback to their experience with Epps on this same balcony had evoked feelings that she - that neither of them would have expected.

She knew what she wanted. Him – all of him. And though his touch was eliciting bodily responses from her that were beyond her control, it could not be sexual right now. She needed to be his partner, his friend… and yet, she craved more.

She raised her free hand to lightly trace along the deep lines in his brow, left awe-struck as she watched them begin to dissipate.

_**I'm talking about being there for him. Knowing when a simple touch is enough.**_

Angela's voice echoed in her head, those sentiments from so long ago. A simpler time? Maybe, maybe not. She thought things were finally starting to become clear to her. Crystal, in fact.

"What are you saying, Booth?"

"I don't know what I'm saying… maybe, nothing," he said softly, then raising his eyes to hers, "Maybe everything."

And in that moment, she knew it was no longer about Howard Epps, no longer about the last three weeks. It was about the last three _years_… about them. Their past, present and future. About a choice they were getting ready to make right now that would affect everything.

He was scared. And, truth be told, so was she. But when had Temperance Brennan ever let fear stop her? When had Seeley Booth – until now?

She had to try.

"We're both head-strong, stubborn people. Fighters. Wouldn't you agree?"

He nodded, a slight smile gracing his lips – she knew that most of the time her stubbornness could annoy him like no other. But she suspected it was also one of the traits he would never change about her.

"So, let's fight for this. For us."

She felt his hand release hers and she thought for a moment that he would pull away, this would be it. They could still move on from this… the line that had momentarily faded could be redrawn and heavily highlighted. Reinforced with bright yellow crime-scene tape and Day-Glo orange cones, if need be.

She would eventually forget the taste of him. Forget the feel of his hand on her thigh. The slide of his tongue in her mouth. His breath on her lips.

Her eyes closed as her body tingled from the memory. She'd forget… it just wouldn't be soon.

--

Booth's heart was in the right place. Finally.

His mind seemed to have caught up in the last few minutes and flipped the switch inside him that awakened the voice that was now chastising him for his previous actions. _Yes, idiot, this __**is**__ your work partner. But she is also the most amazing woman you've ever met, not to mention brilliant, sexy __**and**__ your BEST FRIEND. So, what's the problem?_

He didn't think he knew any longer. This was not _how_ it was supposed to happen. But he now knew, in his heart, it _was_ supposed to happen. He'd never realized that he was such a "planner" before; he always thought of himself as a free-spirit, go-with-the-flow kinda guy. But, maybe that was BB – Before Bones. Lord knows, she could throw a wrench into any well-laid plans.

So, he realized, he needed to prove himself adaptable; able to adjust and cope with whatever she threw at him… same as in their work partnership. Bob-and-weave, and occasionally butt heads, until it worked.

"_So, let's fight for this. For us,"_ she had said.

And he knew that of everything worth fighting for in this life: freedom, justice, peace – and yes, love – she was deserving of every ounce of commitment, loyalty, trust, and _yes_, love, that a man could give.

Could he be that man for her? He wanted to be, he yearned to be… did he deserve to be? His self-doubt pulled at his chest, he physically ached with it.

He needed to see her eyes – she had closed her eyes when he released her hand – he needed her to open them. To look at him and show him what her words were telling him.

He placed his hands on each side of her face, his palms gently resting on her cheeks and his fingers threading into her wet hair. Her head upturned and her eyes opened - claiming his, and his hers… both searching, analyzing, acknowledging… finding.

And this time, when their lips met, some would say it was like coming home; but it was no home that either of them had ever experienced before. It was new, but at the same time familiar. It was different, but it was comfortable. And it was hot… damn hot.

Before he knew what had happened, he had her pinned against the cool, wet glass of the door, his hands slipping her hair from its confines and entangling there. Her fingertips were gliding underneath his clinging shirt, sliding over and kneading the toned muscles of his back, pulling him closer into her, unwilling to let him go this time.

He pressed his hips into hers, allowing her to feel what she did to him and how well they fit together in this most intimate of ways. Her gasp against his lips was the break he needed to move across her damp cheekbone and down her neck, the taste of rain and sweet surrender on his tongue. His fingers deftly moved the strap of her wet, and now very see-through, tank down her shoulder, blazing the way and leaving a trail of gooseflesh, like breadcrumbs in his wake.

For a moment, his mouth released her, and he rested his forehead against the wet pane of the door, chuckling as he said, "We _are_ really good at fighting."

Brennan shook her head, panting a little, out of breath. "We don't fight, we bicker."

"For this," and he pulled back to look deep in her eyes. "We fight."

_TBC._

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Also, I think I had initially said three chapters - yeah, better make that four... unless you guys just want me to stop it here? o.O


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: **I'm truly sorry this chapter took so long… to be completely honest, I was intimidated and had a difficult time getting it started, but after getting past that mental roadblock, it flowed nicely. So an _EXTRA_ long update for you! And there **will** be another chapter after this one…

Thank you so much to all who have read and indulged this story, but especially to those who have taken the time to review and comment. Much love.

Gazillion tons of thanks goes to my fabulous beta and friend – **TemperTemper** – just as in everything I write, I totally could not have accomplished this without you, hon. *smooches*

And to **ForAReason**: you're like my consultant, babe! Totally love and _miss you_!

Also muchas gracias to **Mariposa** for hours of late-night conversation and support and the excellent read-through – you're the best!

**Disclaimer:** Concept of Bones + Characters of Bones + Anything you recognize = Not mine.

**Also a reminder that this story was inspired by the song of the same name by Dashboard Confessional. No infringement intended - please check out the link in my profile. **

**

* * *

  
**

An especially bright and _close_ flash of lightning interrupted what was already a most phenomenal, and very wet, make-out session. The sounds of falling rain, spinning tires on wet streets, the wailing of a siren in the distance; all this and more began to slowly emerge and penetrate through the fogged senses of at least one of the pair currently entangled on the balcony.

Regretfully pulling his lips from hers, and smirking when her whimper of loss reached his ears, Booth looked into the upturned and hazy eyes of his now-more-than-partner - but _what_ more?_ -_ and reasoned, "Think we should take this inside, Bones?"

Her eyes slowly cleared and she smiled. Turning, she finished the job she had started earlier, working the key and wrenching open the balcony door. However, she must have underestimated the force of her pull and the proximity of her partner - whose diminished attention span had already redirected him to chasing rain droplets over the curve of her shoulder with his tongue - because the shift caused them to stumble ungracefully into her rather untidy bedroom.

Low lamplight concealed most details to the unfamiliar eye, but the reality was that the blinds hadn't been opened in days, the bed was rumpled and unmade – all indicative of long workdays spent elsewhere and short nights spent tossing and turning, not sleeping. But this desolate scene seemed on the verge of change as the couple - _couple? -_ made their grand entrance into relative safety, laughing and pawing to regain balance.

Booth reached out to grasp Brennan's waist, to steady her and himself. Their eyes met and he watched the smile on her face slowly fade, in perfect reflection of his. The rain on her face looked like tears. He brushed his thumb across the porcelain apple of her cheek and remembered their earlier passion. The kiss she had initiated on her rooftop. That kiss was no "cute little sprig." How could he have thought that he would be able to move on, forgo the endless torture of that moment, when a damn near platonic kiss under mistletoe - with a witness, no less - had kept him up many a night?

It would have been impossible. He knew that now. Could accept it (_her_). Embrace it (_her_).

His fingers lightly trailed along her face and neck, brushing back strands of untamed, wet hair, and he leaned in to bring their mouths a hairs-breadth apart. He watched her eyes close and heard her intake of breath, readying herself for his kiss. And when his lips didn't meet hers right away, he watched as her eyes opened again, searching his and questioning, as their exhalations mingled.

It was what he was waiting for; he wanted to watch her when he kissed her. To see her eyes react: dilate, sparkle, cloud, narrow - what would a Bones/Temperance reaction be? He wondered why people closed their eyes when kissing. He knew his scientist partner would have some lengthy explanation involving reflexes and sensory stimulation. He was just curious: call it an experiment of his own - gathering data to reach a conclusion.

_Data point #1_: A simple placement of lips, soothing and releasing, and her reaction was a sparkle and a smile.

_Data point #2_: Tracing his tongue along her lower lip, tasting and teasing, resulted in clouded irises and heavy eyelids.

_Data point #3_: A gentle nip, full of intention, and her eyes widened, darkened and her breath passed swiftly across his teeth.

His hand rested on her neck, fingers stroking, pulling her closer, his mouth deepening the connection, her mouth an open invitation; he dove and curiosity, along with fledgling scientific inquiry, was lost in the random tumble of emotion – he couldn't stop the sensations flooding him and when her eyes closed he could no longer force his to stay open.

And he knew. Suddenly he knew why. It was fireworks and cloudbursts and epic realities swirling behind his eyelids – his focus now on the sensation of touch, slippery wetness, tenderness of lips and tongues, the taste of succulence and salvation.

It had been so long. Such a long wait for this. A long time since his last "I do fine." And _never_ was it like this. Never.

He offered a mental wave goodbye: So long,_ so long._

And yet…

Pulling away and panting heavily, "Bones. Bones, we… we don't have to rush this…"

"Do you honestly think we've rushed anything?" She nipped along his neck, grasping at the hem of his soaked shirt. "Booth, I think we've waited much too long…"

He really didn't have a problem with conceding to her point and let her know by pulling her even closer to him and kissing along her shoulder up to her ear, where he whispered, "Then, just so you know, I don't plan to rush a moment of _this_… right now."

She'd had too many inconsequential fucks, too many "just satisfying biological urges" booty calls, too many for his liking… and he planned to erase every damn one of them from her mind, erase everything but him and the two of them together.

"I'm gonna show you I'm a lover _and_ a fighter, babe."

---

"You – _oh -_" She wanted to laugh at his cornball sentiment, but just then he reached a particularly sensitive spot at her throat, causing her mind to skip. "…don't call me that."

He pulled back and actually moved away. She was beginning to reconsider her request. _No, you can call me whatever you want… you already do. Just get over here and… _

But then she caught the look in his eyes and realized his intention. He wanted to look at her.

And maybe she should have been embarrassed by the way her nipples strained against the now-transparent cotton of her white tank. Or the way her chest heaved with her stimulated increase in breathing. The way her body was flushed from the rapid blood flow to her erogenous zones. And the warmth that now flooded between her thighs, dampening the one article of clothing she was wearing that had even stood a chance of staying dry.

But not with those eyes taking inventory.

She now knew what it was like to be on the other side of the microscope. And watching his intense gaze travel her length so conspicuously, made her wonder how many other times he had looked at her in a "more-than-partnerly" manner. Was it even close to as many times as she had indulged herself without his knowledge?

It was hot. Damn hot.

And rather than demurely looking down as a typical woman would be wont to do under his penetrating scrutiny, Brennan chose to seize the moment and take stock herself.

Wet hair, spiky in spots, not from his usual liberal application of hair-care products, but from her fingers tangling and scratching along his scalp. Her stomach clenched and tumbled with the knowledge that she'd done that – and he would let her do it again.

His eyes – which currently seemed focused solely on her taut nipples – were a dark brown, swirling black, full of desire and admiration. She was not a woman of assumption, but if she had to guess, he liked what he was seeing.

His lips were full, swollen from their kisses, and parted with his quickening respiration.

She wanted to see him react. _Gonna show her he's a lover?_ God, she hoped so.

Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt, lifting it slightly to expose the waist band of her skirt and she marveled at the lightning-quick response of his eyes, flitting and now glued to that spot. She lightly pulled at the elastic band, causing the barest strip of her smooth abdomen to peek from underneath. His tongue darted out quickly to moisten his, she once again assumed, suddenly dry lips.

She allowed her fingers to lightly trail across her stomach leaving delicious chills in their wake. His eyes never left their movement. Idly stroking herself, teasing him mercilessly, she allowed her vision to rove over the rest of his trim body. His tee was clinging in all the right places, tight around his biceps and accentuating the outlines of his pectorals, hugging his upper body down to the waistband of his low-slung jeans.

For the first time that evening, she noticed that he wasn't wearing his ever-present belt and therefore, no "Cocky" belt buckle. Her eyebrow raised and she chuckled softly to catch his eye, asking, "No belt?"

He looked down, a little surprised. "Must have forgotten it after I showered." He smirked lasciviously, "But, I don't need to be cocky around you, do I?"

"Only in the most evident of ways, Booth," she huskily replied with a sly smile of her own. And then, "I want you to take off your shirt."

Booth's eyebrows rose at the suddenly demanding tone of her voice. At first, he seemed a little surprised by her attempt to take charge. His fingers flexed and almost unwillingly moved for the hem of his shirt. Then he stopped.

"You first."

---

She was driving him nuts.

The way she was looking at him. The way she looked. It was all spinning out of control and this was not how it was supposed to be and, good God, was he having second thoughts? _What the fuck, Seeley? You want this. You have wanted this, and her, for years. It's here for the taking and what the fuck are you doing?_

He thought that persistent voice had disappeared, his conscience satisfied. His inner turmoil resolved. And it _was_ - it was just…

This wasn't how he had imagined it. It was so much more. _She_ was so much more. But it felt almost… _surface_ to him. He didn't know how to describe it. He didn't know what he expected. Their connection, while powerful, it wasn't _all_ there. Yet. What was missing? Or was he just being an idiot?

She was hot. Damn hot.

And he was enjoying their stand-off… each taking inventory of the other, in a whole new light. It was allowed now. No more hiding behind façades or explaining away lingering looks.

And their arousal was growing, God yeah, but they needed so much more. _He_ needed more. And he needed to know that she was feeling the same. She said her heart and head were in this, in this place now with him. But he needed to be sure. This couldn't be a one-time thing. It was going to change everything and as much as he hoped it would be for the better, it was a risk, and he had to make sure they were on the same page going in. No changies, no take-backs.

His mind was repeating the same phrase: _This is your partner… your partner, Seeley. Your partner._ Like he didn't _know_ that. He knew that, he did, but… it was different now. It was a whole new sense of the word. So much _more_ than a work partner. _Life_ partner – not just partner in the SUV, partner at a crime scene, partner in the lab, partner at the diner – partner in _life_, partner in _love_, partner in… _everything_. More.

His mind was flashing. She had spoken, made a request. He had responded with one of his own. _"You first."_

And he watched in what seemed slow motion as her fingers grasped the bottom of her tank and started to lift. But he needed to know. Now… before…

He stepped towards her suddenly, causing her to inhale sharply in surprise, and grasped her hands, effectively stopping her progress.

Her eyes radiated confusion. "Booth?"

"Are you sure?" He released her left hand and raised his right to place it over her chest, palm resting over smooth skin, registering the rapid fluttering of her heart. "_Really_ sure about this?"

He watched her eyes widen.

"Because this _will_ change everything. And there's no going back… I can't… I'm not… I need you in my life, Bones. I can't lose that – you."

She pursed her lips in preparation to speak, but his fingers came to lightly rest there instead. "I'd rather we stop now. It would be one of the hardest things I've ever done, but if doing this means I lose you, I can't… I won't."

Her lips remained pursed against his fingertips, and she lightly kissed them, urging him to release her and allow her to speak. Her eyes shone and his breath stilled in anticipation.

"I meant what I said on the roof. I'm already there. But I…" She lowered her eyes to his chest, apparently unable to hold his gaze in this moment. "I don't know that I'm capable of a real relationship. I don't know if I can move past irrational fears, that I hate so much but can't always control, and make this work with you."

Booth's head dropped as well, their foreheads now nearly touching, knowing what this all may mean. He didn't know where he would find the reserve of strength needed to walk away.

"All I know is that I've moved to a place where I'm willing to try. With you. I can't imagine anyone else in my life. You are firmly entrenched already, I've just been too frozen by…" she swallowed thickly, "…fear. Too scared to admit it."

Booth raised his head and reached again for her hands, entwining their fingers together and squeezing lightly in encouragement.

"I'm learning that I've never found real fulfillment with lovers, a sense of belonging, a feeling of purpose like I do with you. And we're not even lovers. Not yet."

Those words sent a shiver down his spine that he knew she noticed.

"I'm here, Booth. I'm ready to take that next step… with you. But as hard as it is to admit to myself… I will need your help. Are _you_ sure?"

For a second, he did not respond, could not. He closed his eyes against the sudden moisture that prickled there and lifted her hands to his lips. Kissing her knuckles softly, he raised his head and simply said, "Yes."

Then, taking her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead. "Yes."

The tip of her nose. "Yes."

And finally, hovering above her lips. "Yes."

---

This time, when she reached for the hem of his shirt, she didn't hesitate to pull it up his body, forcing him to lift his arms to rid him of the wet garment. It plopped on the floor when she let it drop from her trembling fingers. His chest was slick from the wetness that had seeped through and her fingertips glided along the well-defined lines of his muscles.

"God, Booth… you are…" She looked up to meet his eyes.

Booth couldn't respond; seeing her looking at him like that, feeling her touching him, it was all so surreal. He leaned in and captured her lips in a searing kiss. His hands traveled to her waist and lifted her tank, mirroring her actions on him a moment before.

She raised her arms above her head, allowing him to remove the last barrier between their upper bodies.

His eyes locked with hers. As badly as he wanted to immediately look, touch, taste, he wanted her to know this was about her, not just her body.

"Touch me, Booth." She appreciated the sentiment, but she wanted to feel his hands on her.

Once again, Booth pressed his palm to her chest, feeling her heart pound for a moment before lowering it and his eyes, to take in a sight of which he knew he'd never tire. His fingertips trailed around the swell of her breast, his thumb following along to flick over one tight nipple.

Her breath hitched and her eyes closed at the sensation of being touched by this man, her partner. Her hands smoothed up along the light hair of his forearms, traced the outline of his biceps and the thick width of his shoulders. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers for a soul-shattering kiss.

It was more. More than he'd ever imagined. Kissing her, tasting her, touching her. His arms encircled her waist, hands lightly stroking up and down her back, pulling her warm body closer to his, the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest. Groaning at the sensation, his next move was nearly predictable. He cupped his hands under her ass and lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around him, and laid her back onto her bed.

Lying beside her, he kissed her fully again, before moving down her neck to kiss along her chest, teasing ever closer to her aching nipples.

"Booth…" She was on fire. He was doing things with his mouth that she'd not even realized she'd been wanting - from him - for so long. His lips nipped and his tongue danced around her pebbled flesh. "Please…"

And then he was there, tongue circling where she wanted him most, his hands massaging the plump flesh of her breasts, bringing the most delicious contact to her screaming nerves. His hand squeezed, in turn plunging her nipple further into the depths of his mouth, his tongue swirling and he sucked… Oh, he was good at this. Damn good.

Her hands threaded and pulled at his thick hair once again, not able to get enough of touching him; smoothed down his jaw line and his neck, feeling the tendons there tighten as he worked his mouth against her; grasped his deltoid, delighting as the muscle flexed with each pleasurable squeeze of her breast. She tilted her head forward and licked around the shell of his ear, taking the lobe in her mouth and teasing with her tongue. This elicited a groan from him and his head pulled back, his skilled mouth detaching from her nipple with a pop.

His eyes were intense and full of… something. And then he was kissing her again and shifting his hips to encase her thigh between his. She could feel him, hard against her leg and could not suppress the shudder that ran through her body in anticipation.

As they kissed, she moved her hand down the smooth plane of his back, feeling his muscles tense and ripple underneath her fingertips. She reached the waistband of his jeans and followed along the belt loops as she had on the rooftop. This time she had a different goal in mind, however. Rolling into him, so they were both on their sides, she slipped her hand around to the front to cup him through the heavy denim. She felt him gasp against her lips as she squeezed lightly and began to trace his erection. She could feel him straining against the confines of his clothing; his length thick and hard against her exploring fingertips.

He couldn't take it. He was going to embarrass himself after five minutes of foreplay. He shifted against her, freeing his arm from between them and grabbing her hand, to stop the excruciating pleasure she was giving him.

Their eyes met in that moment and she rotated her wrist in his grasp to grab his hand instead, pulling it to the juncture of her thighs where her skirt had bunched. "Touch me."

She released him and grabbed at the knot in her skirt, pulling it up higher and exposing to him the dark red scrap of satin and lace covering where she wanted him most.

His eyes took in the creamy expanse of thigh he had seen earlier – it seemed a lifetime ago, that surreptitious glance – and he laid his hand upon it, feeling just how incredibly soft she was. Smoothing his hand up towards her hip, he met her eyes before allowing his hand to trail back down the inside toward her knee.

Her lips parted but before she could say anything, he shifted to his knees between her legs. Placing a hand on each side of her body, he leaned forward, hovering over her and kissed her gently. "I'm going to give you what you want, Bones. Don't you doubt it. But I told you I wasn't going to rush a minute of this. And I meant it." He smiled at her then and pulled back to look at her, stretched out before him. "You're so beautiful, Temperance."

His hands smoothed down her legs, along her calves and ankles as he looked at her. He watched her heavy-lidded eyes and the expressions on her face, absorbing the details of her pleasure as he touched her.

He ran his fingers along the waist band of her skirt, pulling it slightly as she had earlier. She automatically lifted her hips, wanting him to rid her of the wet garment, not only for the obvious reasons, but her bed was going to be soaked through. He obliged by pulling it down over her hips and off her legs as she raised them.

"You should take off your pants, Booth. They're wet."

He chuckled, "And I'm sure that's the only reason, right?"

"No. I want to see you. And your…"

"Right. I get it." His partner – ever blunt.

She watched as he scooted off the side of the bed to strip his wet, clinging jeans down his legs. It was easier said than done. They were clinging to his quadricep muscles and turning inside out. She turned on her side and propped her head on her hand, watching him with a bemused expression.

"You think this is funny, huh?" Then his tone took on a 'New Yawk gangsta' accent, "'What, like I'm a clown? I amuse you?'"

She smiled, "You have coulrophobia. I'd think the last thing you would want to be is a clown."

"I am not scared of cl… You know what, never mind, Bones," he said, as he finally managed to get the sodden fabric over his bare feet and kicked them across the floor.

She lay back on the bed again, her hands stroking seductively along the under-swell of her breast and down her taut abdomen. Her hair was damp and wild, messily splayed around her head, but he had never seen her look so gorgeous. Her lips, her breasts, her thighs; he was mesmerized.

"God, Bones… do you have any idea what you do to me?" His right hand moved over his abs, his thumb dipping under the waistband of his black boxer briefs, which were not doing much to conceal his evident arousal. He was aching to touch himself, to relieve just a bit of the pressure.

She licked her lips watching him and her hand moved lower towards her own center which was coiling with need. She slid her fingers underneath the elastic of her panties to cup herself. "Take them off, Booth," she released on a ragged breath as she lightly stroked herself.

His eyes were locked on her fingers the moment she moved them towards their destination. Seeing them disappear beneath the fabric and begin to move slowly – well, he couldn't tear his eyes away, much less process much of what she was saying to him. He just knew that he needed to be the one _there_, the one touching her. More out of instinct and need than anything else, he pulled the briefs down his legs and stepped out of them, moving toward her on the bed.

Her eyes widened and she couldn't hold back a groan of appreciation as she saw what he had uncovered; she also couldn't stop her finger from grazing along her clit, which throbbed from the sight before her and from the build-up and lack of attention prior to that.

He was gorgeous… his transverse abdominals well defined, his quadriceps large and strong, and nestled in the middle, even more impressive, the evidence her scientific mind required to answer a question she had often secretly wondered: the Cocky belt buckle, the large hands and feet (even though she scientifically knew that had no direct correlation, but _still_)… yes, it was all justified now. And yes, she had seen it before, but in a… very _relaxed_ state, in his bathtub. However, he was anything but relaxed now.

Crawling onto the bed and straddling her hips, once again hovering over her, his biceps bulged as his arms supported his weight and he lowered his mouth to hers. His tongue traced between her lips, exploring and seeking out her own.

She moaned into his mouth, feeling his erection brush across her stomach. With one last swipe of her finger across her sensitized lower lips, she removed her hand from her panties and placed both on his chest, pushing lightly to get him to lean back. He towered above her and he was beautiful. She caught his eyes, locking there as she trailed her fingertips down his abdomen, and from there simply followed the light dusting of dark hair to her goal.

His eyes closed and his head tipped back as she captured him in one hand and began to lightly stroke, base to tip. Her thumb circled over the head of his cock, so sensitive, and he needed to see her. When he opened his eyes, he was just in time to see her leaning forward, her hands moving to his ass to pull him up higher on his knees, and his cock directly to her gorgeous mouth.

"God, Bones…" he said as her warm, wet lips surrounded him, her hands squeezing his ass and pulling him into her deeper. As she pulled back again, her tongue began to swirl around the tip of him. He couldn't believe it – his gorgeous partner, her brilliant mind, her sharp tongue – all now focused on him. Emotions tore at his heart and his mind as she sucked him harder, her hand coming back around to massage his balls and then encircle the base of his shaft. He couldn't take much more… he was gonna…

"Temperance, you've gotta… gunh…" It took every ounce of strength in him to place his hands on either side of her face, his every intention to pull her back from him. What he felt were the hollows of her cheeks as she sucked him, the movement of her jaw beneath his palms as her tongue swirled around his cock; her hand squeezing him and moving up and down his shaft. It was too much.

"Oh, God… Bones, I'm gonna come..." Her eyes looked up at him and she winked. She _fucking_ winked at him and that was it, he was gone. His release came in waves and he was pulsing in her mouth and she was sucking him dry. He couldn't take his eyes off her; she was watching him until her eyes closed in what he hoped was pleasure. He himself couldn't get much higher… he really had to be dreaming.

His fingers were still tangled in her hair, cupping the sides of her face. She released him, and wiping one hand across her lips, smiled softly. "That was amazing."

Did he really just die and go to heaven? _She_ thought it was amazing?

"C'mere, Bones." He pulled her up to a sitting position; they were now straddling each other with their legs behind each other's back. His eyes were prickling and he couldn't seem to find words. He stroked her hair back and pulled her to him. "I can't believe we just did that."

"What? You didn't like it?" she asked, a bit of worry in her tone.

"Do you even have to ask? God, babe, I've never…. I just didn't expect it, that's all. But I haven't expected much of anything that has happened this evening. Nothing has been how I would have planned. It's all just sorta happened."

His hands were smoothing across her shoulders, down her arms, leaving trails of gooseflesh and tingling sensation in their wake. "The night's still young," she said suggestively, kissing his shoulder.

---

Booth had to admit, he felt a bit guilty. And guilt as a motivator had always seemed to work for him – being Catholic and all. He could blame it on the pure fact that Temperance Brennan had the most amazing mouth he'd ever seen, tasted, felt. Who wouldn't lose it to her? But he'd always prided himself in being more 'in control' than that. Of course, this night had proved him wrong in that respect several times already.

So it was with a newfound drive that he was determined to make this the "best damn sex of her life" – that's what the little voice in his head was chanting, anyway. And if the sounds coming from her were any indication, he was well on his way.

"Ah, Booth – lower… faster… unnhh…" She certainly wasn't shy about telling him what she wanted, and maybe not for the first time - but this time he _really_ meant it - he appreciated her forthrightness. There's nothing a man hates more than tiring himself out doing one action if it's doing nothing for her.

Currently he was taking his time mapping her body with his tongue. Almost finished with the front, he kissed lightly and questioned, "And this one?"

"Mmm… calcaneus."

"We really should have done this a long time ago, Bones," as he massaged the arch of her foot. "Maybe I would have been able to understand what you guys were talking about…"

"Pop quiz later then, Mr. Booth," she said in her best school-teacher voice.

"I'll look forward to it, Dr. Brennan. Now, flip over."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "You speak to me with a little respect or it will be detention."

"Mmmm…" he chuckled and pretended to ponder, moving to lay beside her, trailing his fingers up her body. "Please. Flip over."

"Booth, you're killing me. It's very cruel to tease, you know." If Temperance Brennan, was capable of pouting - and what woman isn't? – this was the time, bottom lip and all.

He looked at her… so beautiful. He really wanted nothing more than to be buried in her right this very moment, however his loss of control earlier kinda put a damper on that. He wasn't seventeen anymore. But yeah, there were other ways… it made his cock twitch just thinking about it.

"Fine, party-pooper, have it your way."

He rolled over, letting his feet drop off the side of the bed, standing and effectively leaving his partner sprawled on the bed, still in her underwear.

"Now, where are you go… Booth!" she squealed as he leaned over, grabbing her ankles and pulling her to the end of the bed.

The thick duvet had been kicked to the foot of the bed, looking to have been hastily discarded during previous nights of frustrating heat and restless tossing and turning. And if he really knew the truth – nights full of another kind of frustration, involving slender and unfulfilling fingers. However, the comforter's sole purpose now was to prop her upturned hips to his greedy mouth.

Letting her legs drop off the end of the bed, he lowered himself to his knees and leaned up over her, kissing between her breasts, his hands gliding tantalizingly up the sides of her body. Palming her breasts, he watched as her head fell back in pleasure and her hands moved to her hair. He placed open-mouth kisses along the slight outline of her ribs and to the soft flesh of her belly, running his tongue around the rim of her navel. Her breathy responses as he moved ever closer to the one place she obviously wanted him only served to urge him on.

He inhaled deeply, audibly, taking in the sweet aroma of her arousal, as he dipped his head and allowed his tongue to trace along her inner thigh.

"Booth…"

"You ready for me, babe?" His fingers grasped the elastic of her panties and tugged gently.

"Yes, a thousand times…" her head rising to look him dead in the eyes, conveying her serious arousal.

"A lofty goal, but I'm willing to give it a try." He smiled lecherously, tugging the panties down and off her legs.

"I'd settle for one right now."

One hand flew to his bare chest, as if wounded, "Temperance, I'm hurt." He brought the scrap of lace to his nose and inhaled. Then his eyes lost the crinkle of lightheartedness and took on a much more serious glint. He was silent for a moment as he took in the sight of her, spread completely naked before him. "Gorgeous," he whispered, and then a bit louder, "You'd better hang on for this."

He simultaneously lowered his head and opened her with his thumbs, dipping the tip of his tongue into her wetness, and then letting the flat of it lick up her, ending at the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top.

"Oh God, Booth… yes… oh… fuck…" Her hands clenched into fists, grabbing handfuls of sheet in an effort to hold on, while her legs rose up into a bent position on either side of his head. She was trembling, she was so close; he had her so worked up that this was bound to be over quickly. Oh, the highly anticipated culmination of his sweet torture.

He kissed and nipped along the edge of her, wanting to taste every inch of her sweetness, before settling into a rhythm that had her hips shifting off the bed. He threaded his arms through the arch of her legs, along the line of her hips, grasping them in an effort to try to hold her steady.

His mouth was everywhere at once: licking, swirling, plunging, and finally focusing on her throbbing clit. Raking her fingernails along his forearms, she found his hands and twined her fingers with his, holding on tightly as her world broke, then eagerly giving in to the crashing waves of pleasure that overtook her.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, her head thrown back, her chest heaving as she gasped and called his name; he felt like he was literally watching the waves ripple along her body, head to toe and back again. He ground his hips into the mattress, his erection back in full force now and looking for some relief.

As she came back down, she pressed her hips into the bed under the gentle ministrations he was still giving her, stubbornly coaxing a few final shimmery aftershocks. She grabbed his head, making him stop – it was nearing painful. "God, Booth… that was…"

Grabbing the sheet, he wiped his mouth and moved up to lie beside her. "_That_ was amazing, Bones." She turned into him and they lay facing one another.

Through the still-open balcony door, they could hear the rain continuing its steady downpour. Above them, the ceiling fan turned silently, save for the occasional rattle of the pull chain. The slight breeze it was stirring skimmed across their damp bodies, soothing, cooling.

Booth was softly running his hand along her side, relaxing his partner, slowly aiding her return to reality. Leaning in to kiss along her cheek, he felt a wetness that could no longer be attributed to the rain.

"Temperance?"

She silenced him with her fingers against his lips. "I'm okay, Booth… maybe just a little overwhelmed." She smiled then. "You are really, really good at that."

The thousand-kilowatt charm smile she had come to know so well lit up his face at her compliment. As if his ego needed any more stroking.

"There's more where that came from, babe."

_TBC._

* * *

You know, I really got into the flow while writing this chapter... and I really hope I haven't lost that inspiration. Do you think, you know, if you've enjoyed what you've read so far, you could help a girl out?! *wink*

Comments much appreciated.


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N:** Mucho thanks to everyone who has read this story and most of all to those who have commented. This is the final chapter. And in this chapter, I have pulled a couple of lines from the song this is inspired by – _Rooftops and Invitations_ by the great Dashboard Confessional – please check it out (link in my profile).  
Also, I can not thank enough, my two wonderful betas - TemperTemper and ForAReason. Never could have done this without your support and encouragement, guys! *smooches*  
It's been fun! Love you guys – Happy Holidays and thanks for being an awesome fandom! See ya next story!  
~S  


* * *

For long moments they lay there, content to be in each other's arms, lightly stroking fingertips across smooth skin, placing soft kisses on lips, cheeks, shoulders. Nothing was rushed, time had ceased – there were no crime scenes, no urgent laboratory needs, no family crises. Simply two people who had finally found, in one another, the _something_ that had been missing.

The cool sheet had been pulled over their bodies, the two of them sharing one cocoon, a soft, cotton haven. Legs entangled, they exchanged caresses, breath intermingling, and occasional laughter welling up from someplace deep as one entertained the other in a brand new way.

Brennan's soft laughter trailed off as her fingers passed over the puckered flesh just below her partner's right shoulder. Her gaze was transfixed in the low lamplight, trying to make out the shape and contours of the scar that was meant for her.

"Did it hurt?" Knowing, even as she said it, that her question was inane.

"Bones… do we really…" He trailed off. Yes, they did. He sighed and continued. "You know what it feels like to be shot, Temperance."

"Yes, but not like this." The lamp over his bare shoulder, cast a perfect reflection in her shimmering eyes. "And I _should_ know this."

Leaning into her, Booth pressed his cheek to her forehead and spoke. "You know I would gladly relive that moment a million times if it means you not getting hurt."

She could feel the brush of his lips against her temple with each word he spoke – imprinting them upon her skin. She shuddered and pulled him closer to her, dipping her head to place a soft kiss upon scarred flesh, before raising and capturing his now familiar lips.

As she closed her eyes into his kiss, a lone tear escaped and dripped onto the pillow below.

Pulling away slightly, connecting their eyes, she cupped his cheek and said, "Seeley-"

Before she could continue, Booth chuckled lightly and nuzzled her nose. "OK, that sounds really weird coming from you."

She smiled. "Booth," and pulled away again, drawing his full attention, "make love to me."

Trying hard to swallow past the lump in his throat, Booth smiled softly, recovered swiftly, and lowered his head to once again capture her sweet mouth. His hands continued to caress her tenderly yet with purpose, squeezing soft flesh, tracing outlines of gorgeous curves.

They moved closer together on their sides and she lifted her leg to rest over his hip – opening herself to him and his wandering, and oh so nimble, fingers.

Accepting her invitation, he let his fingertips explore what his mouth had mapped and memorized earlier – the vision seared pleasurably into his mind's eye, even as her soft gasps echoed in his ears.

His fingers slipped over her, every touch electric, her every nerve and synapse singing from the impulses traveling her body and gathering at her center.

Her hands followed smooth, taut lines of skin, sinew, muscle. She kissed down his chest, tongue tracing outlines around tight dark nipples. Then her hand took over where her tongue could no longer reach, the backs of her fingertips smoothing across the flat of his stomach, bringing her to her intended goal. Grasping his erection, she lightly stroked the rigid flesh and moved it between her thighs where his fingers had done their job, her wetness inviting.

He met her gaze for a moment. "Do we need…?"

She shook her head. "No I'm-"

He smiled. "Oh." And then, "_Ohhh_."

He groaned as she lightly rubbed his head along herself, both of them sighing at the longer-than-they-had-realized anticipated contact. She released him and he thrust forward slightly, allowing himself to just barely penetrate.

"God, Booth… need you," she sighed.

He raised up on an elbow and kissing along her shoulder, tenderly pushed her to her back. His lips found their way to hers once again and he allowed his body to rest along hers, softly pressing her into the mattress.

His weight was affirming, real. This was actually happening and she couldn't believe it was really him, them. His mouth was seconding what his body had just revealed to her and she responded, her thighs opening to welcome him in her cradling embrace.

Poised at her entrance, atop the precipice that would change everything, Booth needed them to be together. This was something he had imagined many times, yet never allowed himself to truly believe would happen. And while nothing else in this so-far perfect night had gone as he would have planned, this moment was something he would not yield.

"Open your eyes, Temperance. Look at me."

She didn't even realize she had closed them, readying herself for what she knew would come next. Her hands smoothed down his back to rest near his hips, and her eyes fixed on his.

They shared that moment, the gravity hitting the both of them and soft smiles passed between them. Her hands grasped his hips and he pushed forward into her.

She couldn't help it, she dimly heard her voice shakily sigh his name and her eyes fell shut of their own accord.

"Don't close… your… God… open your eyes, Bones. Wanna see you," Booth panted as he thrust slowly into her, her body so warm and tight and her face beautiful beyond his belief.

She dragged her eyes open by sheer will, her entire body responding to him in ways she'd never before felt. Her hands traveled the length of his trembling back to grip his shoulders as he moved above her.

It was exquisite, his movements slow and deliberate, deep within her, stretching and filling her, and all the while he was watching her, his eyes never breaking from hers.

"I hadn't allowed myself to love you, Temperance. I couldn't… I…"

"I know." Her thighs clenched around him as her fingertips moved to trace the outline of his familiar face. "Too well."

Each time their hips connected brought unfathomable pleasure. He peppered her face with kisses, murmured sweet nonsense above her, it was all so surreal.

He didn't want it to end, he wanted to spend his eternity bringing her pleasure. The kicker was that it brought him pleasure, too. And every time he filled her, he felt his heart swell. This was his _partner_. His _everything_.

As their tension built, their rhythm moved from slow and sensual to deep and grinding. He brought her to the edge several times, until upon feeling the first initial clenching of her around him, he changed his entry angle or speed and even a time or two stopped completely to take in her reaction, her gorgeous body's response to him.

She couldn't stand it any longer. "Booth… please…"

He began to move again with renewed vigor, unable to retain his own control any longer. Her strong legs wrapped around his back, driving him deeper. She was panting in his ear, affirming with words that what he was doing was just as good for her as it was amazing for him.

And then her teeth were bearing into his shoulder, her walls clutching at him, pulsing with her release. The last thing he saw before his own succumbing was her head falling back to the pillow, her face a perfect portrait of pleasure. The image was seared into his brain as his own climax flooded him and he thrust one final time to lose himself deep inside her.

Through the haze, realization was found - every move and each impulse brought clarity: to stay like this was everything he'd ever need. His mind was whirling as his body shuddered and he felt her trembling beneath him.

"Bones," he panted, raising his head, and moving to lightly stroke her face, brushing errant strands of damp hair away from her face. "You okay, babe?"

His weight was still pressing her into the bed, but it wasn't oppressive, rather comforting. Past lovers had been eager to move off her, or she had pushed them off if they weren't. She moved her hands over Booth's back, reassuringly. "I'm good… just don't move."

He smiled and placed soft kisses over her face. Most of his weight was on his left elbow and leg anyway, he really wasn't worried about crushing her.

And it felt good to linger in the moment a bit.

He couldn't believe his eyes. His partner, now in _every_ way, underneath, surrounding, within him. His heart clenched in his chest as the contentment filled him.

Brennan didn't want it to end. She'd never felt as connected with anyone in her life. She knew she wouldn't be able to form the words to express that to him right now. _Or could she?_

"Booth, I…" Her eyes were filling with tears, but behind the sheen he could see the truth.

"Shhh… I know, Temperance. I know." He brushed his thumb across her damp cheek. "Me too, baby… me too."

She kissed him then - deeply, achingly, fully. And then pulled back, letting her head drop to the pillow and her eyes gaze up at the ceiling. After a moment, she began to laugh and shake her head. "I can't believe I've let you get away with calling me that several times now."

"Yeah, me either. But I'm not complaining," he chuckled then leaned in to nuzzle her neck before teasing directly in her ear, "…baby."

Quickly and with a strength that shouldn't have surprised him, she pushed at him, forcing him to his back, and came up to straddle his hips, her hands on his chest. "If I asked you to stop, would you?"

"You know you love it," he responded as a sly grin spread across his face.

She simply huffed, producing a devilish grin of her own, and rocked her hips against him.

Even though he was softening, the pleasant friction and just the sight of her above him, full breasts swaying, toned arms braced upon him, caused him to moan in response and twitch beneath her.

And then like the last vestiges of the storm that had passed over their darkened city, she was gone, moving off of him towards the edge of the bed. And she almost made it, too, before he grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him, her startled cry at his swift reflexes filling the air. "Booth!"

"Bones…" he said in response, sincerity lacing his tone. "That's all I need. You're all I need." He nuzzled into the back of her neck as he pulled her back in his lap. "My Bones."

She rolled her eyes at him, "Maybe 'baby' _was_ better. Your outdated Neanderthal concept of possession is not…"

He cut her off with a kiss and their laughter rang out as he rolled her back onto the bed.

---

The morning light seeped through every miniscule crack in the drawn blinds, casting parallel lines of golden sun upon the room. Strong rays chased the retreating darkness into far corners and hidden, under-bed crevices. She knew this without even opening her eyes. It was like every other morning.

Except it wasn't.

She could feel the slight, downward slope of her bed behind her and knew that if she were to lean back an inch or two, she would feel the pull, would slide… into him. And it would be so easy to just let herself fall…

"_I hadn't allowed myself to love you."_

She thinks it's too late… she may have fallen already.

She hugged her pillow tighter and kept her eyes closed… focusing on other senses, not quite ready to add sight to her tangled net of emotions. However, keeping her eyes closed simply created a nice blank canvas for the slideshow of her mind.

_Grasping fingers twining in wet brown hair as soft, swollen lips trailed down warm skin._

_Bronzed hands contrasting with alabaster skin, pulling two sets of hips in line with each other._

_Slender fingers splayed across the rapid rise and fall of pectorals, lungs expanding and contracting, as strong thighs raise and lower, muscles expanding and contracting._

Her thighs clenched at the recalled visions, her body betraying several areas of not-too-unpleasant soreness. She opened her eyes then, squinting against the light streaming into the room.

_How would things change now, in the light of day?_

It was easy last night – easy to know exactly what she wanted, _who_ she wanted. Easy to push aside all other distractions, nagging voices be damned.

_But how did she feel today?_

Behind her the bed shifted and unconsciously she held her breath, stilling her body. She heard him sigh, felt him shift towards her, throwing his arm across her waist. She waited… for something, anything…

His deep, even breathing. He was still asleep.

"_Because this _will_ change everything."_

His fingers twitched reflexively across her abdomen.

"_I need you in my life, Bones."_

He was even snoring a little.

_Breathe, Temperance._

She didn't know what was setting her mind on this spiraling path, but she couldn't stay in this bed with him. She took a deep breath - _Stay in control_ - and rose slowly, trying to extricate herself without waking him.

His arm fell to the bed, but he did not wake. She looked at his hand. The hand that had held hers as she pulsed under his tongue, the fingers that had lovingly stroked her over the past few hours – the same hand that held open doors for her, that signed off paperwork, that rested at the small of her back on countless occasions.

It was _him_. Booth. Her _partner_. Her _friend_.

Now her _lover_.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from his long fingers, splayed across her light-colored sheets – the prominent, blue veins that ran along the back of his hand, only to disappear among the toned muscles of his arm. Her eyes continued to scan along his body – gorgeous in the early-morning light. The sheet was rumpled around his waist, leaving his upper body bare to her appraisal; the bunched line of cotton forcing the end of her ogling of his smooth flesh.

Suddenly, he rolled to his back, shuffling his long legs and redistributing the covers around him. One foot emerged from the warm cotton embrace; then he stilled again.

A memory emerged from the previous night's composite of thoughts and happenings: she had been observing his feet, had wanted to see them _tangled in crisp white cotton sheets, morning's first light casting upon the golden brown dusting of hair_.

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes to the emotion flooding her.

Last night was everything she'd never had before and the culmination of everything she'd had for the last four years. With this man. Everything she'd wanted.

_With this man._

When she opened her eyes again, it was to look at his face. And to see his eyes open, looking back. It was all there. Everything she needed to see, in those reassuring and warm, brown eyes.

When he reached his hand toward her – the _same_ hand – she took it without question, and _fell into him_.

_**FIN!**_

**_

* * *

_**

Many thanks to everyone who followed this story!


End file.
